


Beyond A Shadow Of A Doubt

by NerdHQ_084



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Girls Can Do Quads Too, Inaccurate Additions For Sake Of Plot, Inspired by UMFBAMHA, M/M, Mild Language, ON HOLD I'M SORRY, Passive-Agressive Viktor, Please Don't Hate Me, Sibling Rivalries, The Nikiforov Clan, There will be fluff, Viktor Is Literal Sunshine, Work In Progress, or so you thought
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdHQ_084/pseuds/NerdHQ_084
Summary: Zira just wants to get out of her brother's shadow, and she'll do it by casting a bigger one. What she learns along the way may just change everything. People change, but not that much, do they?





	Beyond A Shadow Of A Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Kinda long memo, so I apologize, but it's for your benefit I promise. This is my latest work and I'm really excited for where it will go, but it takes me quite a long time to write sometimes and even longer to type. I sincerely hope you will stick with me for the journey through Zira's skating career and I won't fail to complete the story. It's going to be five seasons worth of content, so again, please bear with me as I cannot guarantee regular updates. That said, please enjoy the work and let me know what you think in the comments!  
> -HQ  
> UPDATE(3-12-18): I have re-uploaded this chapter with a few changes and better editing in preparation for chapter 2, Old Wounds, which should be posted no later than tomorrow. I am also in the midst of tackling Zira's first GPF banquet in chapter 3....what could that mean for our heroine? You'll just have to wait and see.

“Come on, Z! I know you can do it!”  
“I won’t let you fall, just try it.”  
“Perfect! Let’s try the triple.”  
My brother’s voice echoed in my head as I prepared to step on the ice for my first Junior Grand Prix Final. I had to do well, for him. I knew he would be watching. Next to me, my coach, Dimitri Zolnakov, smiled confidently, sure that I would win gold, just as I had in all the junior qualifiers. In fact, I hadn’t lost a competition in the last two years. The hateful part of me hoped Viktor was watching, but I doubted it. The announcers were already talking about me.  
“Our next skater has some interesting rumors surrounding her. The most notorious is that those who have watched her career prior to her Junior debut and throughout this season believe she may be the sister of legendary skater Viktor Nikiforov, though neither have ever commented on having siblings in interviews. This mystery appears to be one that will remain unsolved, but without further ado, may we welcome Zira Zolnakov to the rink! She is skating to “Whatever It Takes” under the theme of strength. If she is who people believe her to be, we are sure to be in for an awe-inspiring performance.”  
Awe-inspiring? They had no idea. As my music started, I let my mind slip into my memories, thinking about all the things Viktor had done to drive me to where I was now, skating to prove myself. To do whatever it takes to be better than him. I remembered being seven and just staring nationals. Viktor was 15 and debuting in the Seniors next season. He had taken gold in the Junior GPF.  
“Do your best, I guess. I wouldn’t expect too much though. Their eyes will be busy elsewhere.” I glared at him.  
“I will be better than you, someday. I guarantee it.”  
“Heh, oh Zira. You know the best scores in the ladies division have never even gotten close to the top scores in the men’s division. Just try and be better than everyone in your own group. That will be hard enough.” He had never been more wrong. I had taken the Juniors with unchallenged force and frightening ease. Viktor had never been much of a brother to me, but that day was when I started to truly hate the idol of Russia, the heroic Viktor Nikiforov. That day, I swore to break the ladies records as well as the men’s. I already had more gold’s on my wall than he had from his entire Junior career. And I didn’t need a name to outshine him.  
I flawlessly completed my triple salchow, the triple flip, double toe loop, and triple lutz combo, and my triple loop, triple toe combo. My jumps were always perfect, but sometimes I lost presentation points or technical points on spins and footwork. As I headed into the second half of the program, I thought of the last time I had spoken to Viktor. Two years ago, when he had walked out on me completely.  
“Viktor, you can’t. We only have each other, you can’t abandon me!”  
“You’ll be fine. Believe me, you’re better off without me. It won’t be all that different for you.”  
“I don’t need you to take care of me, I just need you to be there. Just as I’m here for you.” He narrowed his eyes, a brief hint of sadness in them.  
“You know I’ve never been there for you. What makes you think that would be different now?”  
“Everything is different now.” He was being unusually soft spoken. I suppose his twenty-one years had finally started to temper him, if only slightly. I easily landed my triple axel, single lutz, triple flip combo with ease. Triples were comfortable for me. Other jumps always felt too easy and I often overpowered them.  
“So you’re just going to leave. Just like you always do. Whenever things get difficult or emotional you run away. Just like you are now.” His gaze faltered and he turned to leave.  
“Goodbye, Zira. Take care.” With that, he was gone. Now I only saw him on TV during competitions and such. He had never watched me skate, but now I was going to force him to watch. I will capture his attention like I captured the audience’s, and he won’t be able to deny that I am becoming everything he said I could never be. That thought launched me into my final jump, a powerful triple axel that nearly became a quad, but I saved it by landing in a flying spin.  
I bowed to the audience and judges, who clearly looked surprised, and it took a moment before the clapping started, rising to a thunderous volume. I calmly made my way off the ice, already recovered from the exertion. Dimitri was standing there, grinning excitedly.  
“Zira, that was incredible! You never skated it like that in practice! The technical difficulty alone always astounds me. And you’re not even winded! I don’t think anyone can deny that you’re…” I stopped him.  
“Dimitri…scores?” I gestured to the kiss and cry.  
“Oh, right, right. Let’s go.” We made our way to the booth. I was the last skater of the day and the judges were taking a bit more time than usual. I knew my jumps had been perfect, they always were, guaranteeing third, but based on the audience’s response I was guessing I was quite close to where I wanted to be. When my score was finally shown, the entire arena gasped in unison: 72.86. I had set a new record short program score and Dimitri practically flew off the bench, cheering and clapping louder than anyone. Honestly he was my biggest fan, in a very literal, fan-like way. I just smiled politely. This had been the plan after all, setting my max technical score at 74.07, well above the former record. And next season I would beat the men’s records. For now, however, I had to appease the press.  
“Zira! Zira, did you know you would break the record?”  
“Why has no one else skated such a high technical difficulty to beat it?”  
“What can we expect from the free skate?” I calmly halted their montage.  
“I was fairly confident, and though nothing is ever certain in skating, I did design that program to break records and taught myself to skate it. Most skaters build programs around what they are comfortable doing, and few are truly comfortable with what I did out there today. I learned to be comfortable with that level of performance. As to the free skate, you’ll just have to wait and see. There are no guarantees after the short program.”  
“Are you really a Nikiforov?” One particularly excited reporter jumped right to the question everyone wanted to ask. While I admired his courage for asking outright, I felt my gaze darken.  
“What does it matter? I’m better than Viktor was, Nikiforov or not. However, I think anyone who has paid attention to my career what so ever can easily answer that question for you. What’s your name?” The crowd had shifted a bit, evidently uncomfortable with the poorly disguised animosity in my voice.  
“James. James Kormann.”  
“Well Mr. Kormann, I admire your gusto, asking the question of the season directly.” He nodded, surprised by the compliment. Another reporter picked up the ball.  
“What are your plans for the next season?”  
“I will score higher than the men’s records. That’s all you need to know.”  
“But…no lady skater has ever come close to the men’s scores.”  
“And I think I’ve proven that I am not your average lady skater.” They all nodded and I took my leave, heading to my hotel for a bit. Unlike most skaters, I stayed in more local hotels during competitions, especially in Russia or America. One particular spot in Moscow was only a few blocks from a local rink I liked to practice at. During the season, I spent a lot of my time in the city and had started looking into apartments.  
Technically, Dimitri was going to rent the place while I paid for it. One in particular was within walking distance of the rink and there were several local dives and a fresh market nearby as well. It was the perfect spot for a second home and we were staying a few days after the final to secure the lease and set up the space. As much as I loved home in Chelyabinsk, it was a bit far from most of the skating action and there was no way I was going to St. Petersburg.  
“So, are you baiting the media on purpose or do you honestly only know what you told them?” Dimitri was smirking at me with raised eyebrows.  
“Well, everything I told them was true, and I only have the short program for next season worked out so they only know a bit less than me. I do like to be cryptic, though.” He shook his head.  
“As much as you hate it, you really are a lot like your brother, and I don’t mean Andre.” I grimaced.  
“I know. Which makes it even harder to get out of his shadow. I think I’m going to go practice at the rink.”  
“Now? Aren’t you tired?”  
“Hardly. I’m bored.”  
“Well, alright. Just don’t hurt yourself.” I nodded, heading out into the wintry landscape. It didn’t take long for me to get to the rink, which was getting ready to close.  
“Привет.” The lady at the front nodded to me. She knew me well and had given me permission to practice after hours.  
“There’s a boy in there. Your age.” I nodded and thanked her, heading in quietly and changing into my skates. There was indeed a boy on the ice, and he was skating rather desperately. Silently, I watched as he skated through what looked to be his long program. He was quite good, albeit stiff and overly forceful. As he ended, I called out to him gently.  
“Извините, may I join you?” He almost jumped, surprised that someone else was there.  
“Huh…uh…” he fumbled for a minute before looking at me quizzically. “You….you’re her…Zira Zolnakov?”  
“Heh, yeah. That’s me.”  
“Oh. Yeah, of course you can join. I was about to leave…”  
“You don’t have to. Elene won’t mind. I’ll stay out of your way.”  
“But, aren’t you practicing?”  
“Not really. I’m just looking for some solace and for something to do. What’s your name?”  
“Otabek Altin. I skate for Kazakhstan.” That’s why he seemed familiar. It was his Junior debut this season as well.  
“Ah, right. I thought I recognized you. Third in the short programs, correct? You’re skating was impressive.” He smiled faintly.  
“Not as impressive as yours.” I smirked.  
“Maybe not, but I expect I had very different motivations than you. And it really doesn’t matter if someone is better than you if you skated your best.” This time he smiled outright.  
“Yeah, I guess so. Though I’m still baffled that I’m talking to a legend completely by chance.”  
“Heh, I’m no legend, not yet. Most people probably think I was just lucky.”  
“Lucky?! What I saw was definitely not luck. Your program had a base technical higher than the record to start with, then you skated it almost perfectly. On top of that, you made it look effortless and were hardly winded when you ended. Anyone who says you won by luck is an idiot.” I actually blushed at the unexpected shower of praise. Solid praise too.  
“Well, thanks. That means a lot. Where are you training?”  
“St. Petersburg, currently. My home rink didn’t have the resources. You?”  
“Here and Chelyabinsk mostly. I try to avoid St. Petersburg as much as possible.”  
“Why?” It was an innocent question, but I still shifted my gaze a little.  
“Because Viktor is there.”  
“Oh, right. Your brother. He’s…kind of arrogant, isn’t he?” His response surprised me.  
“…Yes, he certainly is, to say the least. What… what makes you say he’s my brother?”  
“I’m not stupid. Not only do you two look alike with the iconic silver hair and crystal blue eyes, but you both are superhuman skaters, you more than him in my opinion. Also, even I saw the chatter this season about the ‘other Nikiforov’.” I smirked at his air quotes.  
“Ah, so basically you actually pay attention unlike the dumb press.” He nodded.  
“I can’t pretend to guess at your reasons for not using your last name, but as far as I’m concerned names mean nothing to me. I’ve seen plenty of obscure skaters do far better than the ‘famous’ ones.” This made me smile as I stepped onto the ice. “What’s the smile for?”  
“You’re one of the few people to actually say that to me, especially after figuring out who I am. Most people hear I’m a Nikiforov and instantly compare me to Viktor. I appreciate your thinking.” He smirked.  
“So, maybe we should be friends then?”  
“Yeah, I’d like that.” We then skated for a while, I aimlessly doing jumps around Otabek as he kept working on his program. After a while, I started watching him more intently as I glided around, unknowingly falling into one of Viktor’s old programs.  
“What’s your program about, Otabek?” I jumped a triple axel to double lutz.  
“Oh, uh, well my theme is transformation. My coach picked it and this program is about becoming something great, like a star. I…am having trouble with it though. I don’t really identify with the song or have a story for it.”  
“That’s why I asked. Your skating is very tense.”  
“I thought so…damn.”  
“It’s okay. What are you thinking about when you skate?”  
“The moves.”  
“No, really.”  
“I mean it.” I set up for the next jump, temporarily losing myself in the feeling of gliding backwards, taking off powerfully and finding myself in a quad flip. I landed it perfectly but the move definitely caught my attention, making me realize exactly what I was skating. “Damn it! Why the hell was I skating that?” Otabek was wide eyed.  
“You…just landed…a quad flip…”  
“I realize that but that was Viktor’s stupid debut program.” I gritted my teeth, angry that I had let myself slip up like that.  
“Uhm…you really don’t like him, do you? And you do know only one lady skater has ever been credited with doing a quad, right? Let alone a quad flip?”  
“I am aware of that and yes, I actually hate him. Quads are just no big deal for me. I’ve done plenty of them before. Anyway, we were talking about your program.” He shrugged and nodded. “If you think about the moves of any program, it’s bound to be stiff and choppy. If you truly have to think about them, then the program is either too difficult for you or you haven’t dedicated enough time to it. I’m assuming in your case the former is true, in which case your technical isn’t going to get much better in the time you have. That said, you should instead focus on finding a story for your music that you can at least somewhat identify with, like being a rising star or trying to be the hero of Kazakhstan, for instance.”  
“Huh, I never thought about it like that. I’ve always focused on the technical.”  
“And unfortunately that shows. I know Yakov stresses performance as well as technical perfection, but the focus on moves should be saved for practice. The story is what makes the program come alive.”  
“I’m not sure I actually see how much of a difference it would make.”  
“Want me to demonstrate? I can do both versions.” He thought about that and eventually nodded. “Ok. I’ll use my short program since it’s easier and you’ve already seen it. I’ll start by thinking technically.” I started skating, not letting my mind wander and mentally calling out each maneuver. When I finished, I looked over at Otabek. “You got how that looked?” He nodded. “Alright. You’ll definitely see the difference with this one. I honestly forget I’m skating.” I let my memories take hold this time and fuel my motions. This time, when I finished, my new friend looked uncharacteristically awestruck.  
“Alright, no contest. It makes a massive difference.”  
“Yep. And the more personal the story, the better the outcome.” He thought about this for a bit while I went back to gliding. He stopped me after a bit.  
“I don’t identify with this theme at all…”  
“That’s okay. Can you make a story about what it could mean, what you could or want to be? Usually getting some connection out of a program just takes looking at it from a different angle.”  
“Hmm…so, if I think about being the Hero of Kazakhstan, like you said, even though I’m not there yet, that should work?” I smiled at him, nodding.  
“Exactly. Go try that.” He did, turning his music on this time. Taking a breath, he focused himself, already skating with an emotiveness that had not been present earlier. As he moved, jumping cleanly and spinning beautifully, I found myself getting caught in his story. It told of his struggle to get this far and how far he still had to go to get where he wanted to be. He was up to the challenge though, no doubt. It was quiet poetic and as the routine came to a close I didn’t want it to end. He looked over at me, expecting judgment.  
“That, was beautiful. I was quite caught up in the story. Do that tomorrow and you’ll easily have third, if not second.” He seemed surprised.  
“You really think so? It felt so strange…but good.”  
“Trust me. I know a great skater when I see one.” I smiled at him.  
“What do you think about when you skate?”  
“…Memories. Not usually happy ones. For this season I’m remembering everything that pushed me to the point I’m at, almost desperately needing to prove something to the world.”  
“Damn. That’s pretty heavy.”  
“I guess. But it works.”  
“True. How are you going to beat the men’s records? I expect you don’t plan to use quads.”  
“Heh, which will be a lot easier for me than you think. I have the short program if you want to see it.”  
“Really? Sure. This should be mind-blowing.”  
“Of course. I wouldn’t skate anything less.” The program had a base technical of 87.02, explicitly doing triples all in the latter half and only the most difficult of spins with spread eagle entries and raised arms on my jumps.”  
“Honestly, Zira, I don’t know why you try so hard. You barely have to work to beat everyone in your group. Stop trying to beat ghosts.” Viktor’s words echoed in my head as I started skating. The real Viktor, not the forgetful pretty boy he pretended to be. The fans would never know him like I did.  
“You shouldn’t lie to your fans.”  
“Lie? Whatever could you mean?” I glared at him and he chuckled. “Of course you shouldn’t lie, but if they like what they see, who am I to deprive them of their enjoyment?” I furiously launched into my axel combo, the only sequence including lower level jumps, having a triple, single, then double that landed in a flying layback to sit spin. He stole everyone’s hearts but never gave his to anyone. A flurry of other memories flooded my thoughts as I ended thinking about what he said about his fans when he was eighteen.  
“My fans are just a bonus. People to play with when I’m bored. They never fail to please. You’ll understand someday, little sister.” I didn’t understand. I loved my fans. They had even started referring to themselves as “Zira’s Blades” and apparently considered themselves my personal guardians. They weren’t people to be toyed with. I fell to the ice with clenched fists, allowing a brief moment of exposure I couldn’t have in competition.  
“Woah…that was something else. And a painful something else, apparently.” I had actually forgotten Otabek was there. I was so used to skating alone. He was in serious awe.  
“Oh…yeah, you could say that. I don’t even have to tell stories with how powerful my memories can be.”  
“Doesn’t it get difficult sometimes? Letting all that emotion into your skating, but not being able to really let it go? I saw you fighting to contain even that little bit just now.” I frowned a bit.  
“Yeah, it…” my phone rang. It was Dimitri, and it was very late.  
“Да? Я катаюсь на коньках. Конечно.” Otabek was curious. “It’s late and my coach wants me to get back.”  
“Oh, right. The competition. Alright, well, it was good meeting you. You’re not what I expected, but that’s not a bad thing.” He smirked.  
“You’ll have to explain that one someday.” I stepped off the ice. “Oh, we should exchange numbers! Here. “I handed him my phone and he did the same, adding his info. “This way we can meet up if we are ever at the same competitions.”  
“Yeah, and, if you ever feel up to it, you could come brave St. Petersburg. No one even has to know you’re there.”  
“Haha, true. Same for Chelyabinsk, if you can escape Yakov.”  
“That might be nice. It’s not too far from my home, either.”  
“Really? That’s pretty cool. My brother set up a sort of trust so that the house we built will automatically be in my name once I’m eighteen. That’s a major reason I haven’t left, despite being a bit out of the way.”  
“Your brother…Viktor?”  
“Oh, no, not Viktor. I meant Andre, my eldest brother. He was never a competitive skater, but I’m sure he would have been better than me and Viktor if he had. He taught me to skate in the first place and encouraged me to compete.”  
“I see. You seem quite fond of him.”  
“Andre is everything to me. He was always there for me, and he still is, really.”  
“Aw, well, that’s awesome. We should probably go. Yakov is going to kill me as is.”  
“Heh, I bet. Have a good night, and good luck tomorrow, Otabek.”  
“You too, Zira.” I then headed back to the hotel where Dimitri was waiting for me.  
“You were out unusually long. What happened?”  
“Oh, I made a new friend. He was there first and I ended up helping him with his free skate a bit.”  
“Really now? And just who was this boy?”  
“Otabek Altin. He debuted this year too. Took third in the short programs.”  
“Oh, the Kazakh boy? He was quite good.”  
“Yeah, he was. He is. Just needs to relax a bit.” A sudden wave of exhaustion hit me and I yawned. “Hm, guess I should sleep, now that I’m actually tired.”  
“Yeah, get some sleep, kiddo. You still have a record to break tomorrow.” I nodded, quickly cleaning up and snuggling in, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
